


White Boyshorts

by mokuyoubi



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Crossdressing, First Time, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage fumblings and first times, with bonus crossdressing!  Pure smutty fluff.  This developed from comment fic, inspired by ’s prompt and the panties <a href="http://moku-youbi.livejournal.com/21900.html?thread=229516#t229516">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	White Boyshorts

If it had been anyone else but Ryan, Spencer probably would have been on the floor in stitches. In fact, if anyone had asked him, before now, what his reaction would have been to Ryan in lingerie, he probably would have gone with hysterical laughter.

Instead, five seconds after opening the door his hand’s so sweaty the doorknob slips out of his grip and he’s left standing just inside, mouth dry, eyes wide, brain completely whited out, and there’s nothing funny about this. 

Ryan turns his head to look over his shoulder, gaze is steady on Spencer’s face, waiting, and Spencer can’t think of anything to say. He can’t think of anything to do except to stare because…Ryan is wearing girl’s panties. 

And the thing is, they’re not even all that revealing. Spencer’s seen him in way less—briefs show more skin than these do. They’re kinda…sophisticated, which, Spencer thinks distantly, suits Ryan pretty well. 

But there’s something about the fact that they’re meant for a girl that makes Spencer’s heart beat faster. Makes the eyeliner that Ryan always wears seem more mysterious. Makes the line of Ryan’s spine seem to arc like something delicate. Make’s Ryan’s skin seem to almost _glow_ golden against the white of the fabric. 

Makes Spencer’s eyes linger on the way the eyelet trimmed edges curve against the slight swell of Ryan’s ass, how the laces up the side make neat bows on Ryan’s hips, the ends just brushing Ryan’s thigh, and Spencer wonders if it tickles. Wonders if his fingers brushed the same place, would Ryan’s skin be as soft as it looks? 

Spencer’s been telling himself for months that the feelings he has for Ryan are totally misplaced. He tells himself it doesn’t matter how crazy his heart goes just thinking about Ryan, how he can’t imagine trusting anyone else like he does Ryan, and isn’t that what love is all about? 

He’s told himself it doesn’t matter because even with all of that, it’s still Ryan and he can’t get past that mental roadblock. He’s pretty sure any attempt to take things any further would lead to disaster because it’s _Ryan_. 

Ryan who he’s known since they were tiny, who was a big, snotty, crying mess when his mom took away his favourite stuffed bear. Ryan, who he’d eaten dog food with that one time, just to see what it tasted like. Ryan, who shared his bathtub when they were little and who calls Spencer’s parents mom and dad, and it’s just weird, okay? 

Ryan is like a _brother_. How is Spencer supposed to get past all that stuff? How can he kiss him, let alone think about doing other stuff with him? Spencer’d probably laugh in the middle of it and Ryan would get all offended and then it would be over before it had even begun. 

And so Spencer has just convinced himself he’d get over it, that things will get better because of it, and he’s never suspected that Ryan would _notice_. And even if Ryan had noticed, Spencer never would have thought that Ryan would do anything about it. Ryan is sort of the exact opposite of confrontational. 

Because Ryan’s planned this. There’s no way this is an accident. Inviting Spencer to his place since Ryan’s dad is out of town for the weekend. Spencer called from the gas station to see if Ryan wanted anything else and said he’d be there in ten minutes and it’s been almost twenty. Ryan has had plenty of time to get changed or cover up, or whatever. He had to have heard Spencer letting himself in the front door. This is no mistake. 

It’s a good plan, too. Spencer is thinking of doing a lot of things to Ryan at this very moment, and not a single one of them has to do with laughing. 

“Turn around,” Spencer hears, and realises it’s him saying it, voice coming out choked and raspy. He sounds ridiculous, but Ryan doesn’t even crack a smile. His face is really serious and sort of grown up looking and he turns around. 

Spencer fumbles behind himself, slamming the door shut. He doesn’t care if Ryan’s dad isn’t around. He wants the door shut. He wants it just the two of them and everything else outside. 

Ryan’s cock is a hard line against his belly, making the demure panties look really obscene from the front. His arms are loose at his side, fingers curling gently against his thighs, drawing Spencer’s attention down Ryan’s long, long legs and Spencer notices for the first time that they’re smooth and hairless and Spencer just has to touch. 

Somehow he’s across the room in two steps and he doesn’t know where to put his hands first. Ryan’s breathing is fast and heavy and he’s just _waiting_ and Spencer lays his palms flat on Ryan’s thighs and smooths up. He traces his thumb across the lacy bottom edge, barely brushing the skin just beneath and Ryan makes a soft whimpering sound and moves his hips forward. 

Spencer wants to watch Ryan’s face, but he can’t tear his gaze away from his own hands and how they look against Ryan’s skin. Ryan lays his hands over Spencer’s, fingers fitting loosely in the lines between Spencer’s, but not lacing them together. His touch is barely a whisper, but he urges Spencer’s hands higher and Spencer follows. 

The embroidery of on the panties is rough against Spencer’s hand, almost painfully so in contrast to Ryan’s skin. “Can I…” he starts to ask, and then decides he doesn’t need to. He curls his fingers in the waistband and pulls out as he tugs down, careful of Ryan’s erection. Ryan doesn’t try to stop him. Spencer figures maybe Ryan’s used up all his proactive acts for life with this one act, and is leaving the rest to Spencer. 

Spencer is so fucking hard it hurts and he’s never been so turned on in his life, and he’s worried if Ryan so much as _looks_ at him the wrong way, Spencer’s going to come in his pants. He tries to focus on Ryan, and all the new, bare skin, pushing the underwear down until it goes loose around Ryan’s knees and falls the rest the way to his ankles. 

Ryan takes a step back, out of the panties and towards the bed and sits down, knees apart. Spencer follows, kneeling on the mattress between Ryan’s thighs and their faces are close together. Spencer can feel Ryan’s breath puffing against his chin. He manages to tear his gaze away from Ryan’s dick long enough to look at Ryan’s face and he’s glad he did. 

Ryan’s eyes are dark and glassy with lust, his cheeks are flushed and his bottom lip is all swollen from where he’s been biting it. Spencer presses his thumb against Ryan’s lip and Ryan parts his mouth just slightly, just lightly catching Spencer’s skin with his tongue. His lips curl, just slightly. Just enough to say that even though he may not look it, this is still Spencer’s Ryan. 

Spencer presses harder, tugs Ryan’s lips further apart and dips his head to place a quick kiss there, flicking his tongue against Ryan’s and leaning back again in the space of a second. Ryan strains up towards him, eyes dipping closed and he makes that soft whimpering noise again. 

“What do you want?” Spencer asks. 

Ryan moans. “Everything,” he says. Spencer kisses him, possessive and demanding, one hand fisting in the hair at the back of Ryan’s neck, the other palming the small of Ryan’s back. The angle is weird and Spencer feels like he’s going to fall off the bed, but it lets him kiss Ryan deeper, fucking his tongue between Ryan’s lip and Ryan just _gives_ , arching into Spencer’s touch, opening his mouth to Spencer’s onslaught, moaning deep in his throat.

“You should lay down,” Spencer says. He wants to kiss Ryan’s throat, his ear, his shoulder, but he can’t seem to get away from Ryan’s mouth. 

Ryan nods, inching back on the bed. He lays back on his elbows, legs still spread wide. He looks like a fucking porn star—there’s no extra fat on him anywhere, just sculpted shoulders, flat stomach, cut hips…and his cock. Spencer’s known that Ryan’s got a big cock. They’re friends and they’re guys. A measuring tape might have been involved at some point. Not that Spencer _looked_ , because that would have been weird. 

He’s free to look all he wants, now, but he’d rather be touching. As much as he’d like to just go right for it, he’s not really sure what the protocol his here. The most he’s ever gone with a girl is some heavy making out at parties, but he’s seen enough of his mother’s magazines to know that most people like foreplay. 

So Spencer crawls up the bed and leans in, trying to keep most his weight on his own arms, off of Ryan’s body. The less he reminds Ryan of the differences between their body types, the better. If he can manage to get through this encounter with most of his clothes on, maybe Ryan won’t run away in disgust. 

Ryan stretches up, lips brushing over Spencer’s throat. Spencer’s never been all that sensitive there when girls have kissed him before, but Ryan’s touch is whisper light and it sends sparks down Spencer’s spine, makes his hips thrust forward entirely without his permission. Ryan tries again, this time with teeth and Spencer actually fucking moans, which is so embarrassing, but it just makes Ryan bite harder. 

Spencer works a knee close to Ryan’s cock and pushes and Ryan’s elbows give out. Spencer follows him to the mattress, tugging Ryan’s earlobe between teeth, scraping the skin roughly and Ryan’s breath catches. His hands scramble between them, going for Spencer’s jeans. 

“Wait,” Spencer says, sitting up too fast. All his bravado is suddenly gone. 

Ryan’s bite stings like the skin’s been broken, and he looks up at Spencer with wide eyes. “I bought stuff,” he says. “There’s condoms and lube and I read about it online.” 

It’s like Ryan’s speaking a foreign language, for all the sense he’s making at the moment. “You want me… _me_ to…to…”

Ryan bites his lip and nods his head, going back up on his elbows. “I mean. For the first time, anyway. I thought we could try it both ways. But, yeah.” He squirms under Spencer, reaching under his pillow, and comes out with a string of condoms and a bottle of lube and that hysterical laughter Spencer was worried about? Is bubbling up in the back of his throat. 

“Here,” Ryan says, and takes Spencer’s hand, drizzling the lube over his fingers. Spencer watches dumbly and rubs his thumb over the stuff, spreading it around. He’s never actually used lube before, just lotion and shit. This is a lot slicker. His fingers look too thick and his nails are uneven, cuticles fucked up. He doesn’t want to think about getting them anyplace near somewhere sensitive and delicate like Ryan’s _ass_. 

“Ryan,” Spencer says, and can’t decide if he wants to laugh or just run away or what. 

Ryan gives him a look like he knows exactly what Spencer’s thinking. His hand tightens on Spencer’s wrist and he shoves it between his thighs. “Spencer. Fuck me.” 

And then Spencer’s fingers are pressed against Ryan’s ass and it’s absurd and impossible and really slick, and before he really has time to analyse it, one is pushing _inside_ Ryan’s body. He lets out a surprised breath and pushes deeper because he’s _inside Ryan’s body_. Ryan’s hand loosens on his wrist, drifts up his arm, almost tender and he lets Spencer get used to it, gently working his way in. 

“Put another one in,” Ryan says, breathless, voice tight. Spencer looks up and Ryan’s face is the picture of concentration, little frown his lips, furrow between his brows. 

Two go…okay. Ryan keeps chewing on his lip and making these little breathy sounds that don’t sound like it feels good, but when Spencer suggests they stop, Ryan’s glare is enough of an answer. Three, on the other hand, just _won’t_ fit. Ryan’s body is having none of it, no matter how much Ryan insists. 

“Maybe we should just—”

“Just shut up,” Ryan says. “We’re doing this.” 

Spencer huffs a sigh, because of _course_ Ryan’s bossy in sex, too. He bats at Ryan’s hands when they start on his zipper again, but Ryan just sets a look on him. “You actually can’t do this with your clothes on, Spence.” 

It’s awkward while he’s undressing, aware of Ryan’s eyes on him as he strips out of his shoes and socks and jeans. He hesitates before shoving down his boxers and leaves his shirt on, even though Ryan’s lips are pursed in that pissy way he gets when someone does something contrary to what Ryan wants. 

Spencer climbs back on the bed and doesn’t know where to put himself, or how this works at all. But Ryan scoots closer, grabs Spencer’s dick and Spencer’s eyes fall closed and he fucks into Ryan’s hand, hissing. “Fuck, Ryan…I can’t…”

Ryan rips a condom packet open and rolls it down Spencer’s length. “Yeah, come on, Spence. You can.” 

And it turns out it doesn’t matter if Spencer’s brain doesn’t know what to do, because his body sure as hell does. Ryan barely even has to help; Spencer can’t stop his hips thrusting and Ryan just guides him to the right place. Ryan’s face screws up like he’s in pain and Spencer can’t stop, just keeps sinking in saying, “Sorry, sorry.” 

There’s a moment when Spencer doesn’t think he can fit. Ryan’s so tight around him, too tight and Spencer’s barely halfway in but Ryan lifts his legs, hooking them around Spencer’s hips and somehow they make it, Spencer’s thighs against Ryan’s ass. Spencer holds himself still, face in Ryan’s throat and says, “Sorry.” 

Ryan’s jaw is set but he shakes his head. “Keep going,” he grits out. 

Spencer shifts, rocking out and then back in. It’s a little smoother but just as tight and his vision is going white around the edges. He bites down on Ryan’s shoulder and gives into the inevitable drag of it, hips working through his orgasm, jerking over and over into Ryan’s body. 

“Sorry,” he whispers again, pulling out and falling to Ryan’s side. He fumbles with the condom, making a mess as he takes it off, spilling come all over his thighs and the bed. 

“Quit saying that and help me figure out how we make this better,” Ryan snaps, but his voice doesn’t have its normal level of malice. Spencer casts him a glance and Ryan’s not even hard anymore. 

“What do you want me to do?” Spencer asks. 

“You’re a fucking perfectionist, Spence,” Ryan says. “Practice makes perfect.” 

This time when Spencer goes down on his stomach between Ryan’s thighs, his fingers slip inside much more easily. He pushes gingerly, waiting inch by inch for Ryan’s body to adjust before going further. When he pulls free to pour more lube on his fingers, he lets his fingers rub at the perineum, circle the hole before pushing again. When Ryan gasps, it sounds different from before. 

Spencer gets up on his knees, wraps his free hand around Ryan’s cock, already starting to stir with interest. He pumps a few times, getting a feel for the size and thickness, liking the way it swells at his touch. Spencer works his fingers free with a slick, sucking sound and Ryan moans in protest. 

“It’s…it’s better,” Ryan says. “You can…you don’t have to stop. I think, if you turn your fingers…”

Spencer shuts him up by wrapping his lips around Ryan’s cock and sucking. Ryan’s hands fly out, fisting in the sheets and his hips thrust up and good thing Spencer’s holding on to Ryan’s cock, or he might have just choked on it. 

“Shh,” Spencer says against the tip of Ryan’s cock and Ryan shivers, hips dropping back to the bed. 

Spencer’s hard again, trying to keep his hips from humping against the bed, trying to focus on Ryan, but it’s difficult when Ryan’s writhing and begging beneath him, leaking in Spencer’s mouth. 

Spencer circles Ryan’s hole again and adds a third finger when he sinks them back in. It goes easily this time, Spencer’s hand dripping with lube. He remembers what Ryan said and twists his wrist, turning his fingers palm up and tentatively searching. He knows it when he finds it, not just because he can feel it but because Ryan fucking _whimpers_ Spencer’s name and says, “ _Theretherethere, Spence, please_.” 

Spencer takes his time, testing to see what gets the best reaction—tapping the spot, rubbing gently back and forth, pressing down and massaging—until Ryan’s a mess, just whining and riding Spencer’s hand. He’s close. Spencer can tell but the way his body’s going tight. Then Ryan grabs a handful of Spencer’s hair and tugs him away. 

“What?” Spencer mumbles, straining against the touch. He wants Ryan back in his mouth, wants to feel him come, see it happen, taste it. All the awkwardness from before is gone. He _wants_ this, and he’s not going to be confused about it anymore. “What do you want, Ryan?” 

“Can you…” Ryan starts and breaks off with a moan, hips grinding down on Spencer’s knuckles. “Can you, again? Are you…”

Spencer presses his face into Ryan’s thigh, chuckling. “Yeah, that’s not going to be a problem,” Spencer assures him, and rubs at the spot inside again. 

Ryan shudders, going tense and whines in protest. “No, Spence, I want you inside,” he says, even as he works back against Spencer’s touch. “Please, Spence, come on.” He tears one condom clean through before Spencer takes pity on him and helps with the wrapper of another one, getting it with his teeth so he doesn’t have to stop stroking against Ryan’s prostate. 

“Spence, come on,” Ryan says again, voice desperate and Spencer supposes it’s a good thing that Ryan’s so close to coming, because even though he just came twenty minutes ago, he’s not going to last any longer this time. 

This time, Spencer sinks in easily and Ryan twines around him, gasping for air like he’s drowning. Spencer kisses him and Ryan kisses back, everything they’ve never said passing back and forth on their tongues. 

Ryan moves with him, meeting his every thrust, and now that Spencer knows where it is, he angles his hips, making sure he hits the right spot each time until Ryan bites down hard on Spencer’s top lip and comes, his moan vibrating against Spencer’s chest, going straight down. His body clenches tight around Spencer’s cock and Spencer can’t hold on. 

They’re silent for a long time and Ryan keeps shaking, like he’s cold, only his body is hot and sweaty under Spencer’s. Spencer’s more careful about the condom this time and manages not to make a mess, but his shirt is covered in Ryan’s come. He considers if for a minute before thinking _fuck it_ and peeling it off. 

The second he lays back down, Ryan’s on him, curling at his side, pulling at Spencer’s hip until Spencer’s rolled over, half on top of Ryan, weighing him down against the mattress. Spencer feels too heavy, Ryan’s hipbones sharp against the fat on Spencer’s stomach, but Ryan clings tight, limbs wrapped like ivy around Spencer’s body. 

“Okay?” Spencer asks, because sometimes Ryan has these plans that he thinks are perfect and foolproof, and then he puts them into action and it all blows up in his face, and this seems like it could be one of them. 

One of Ryan’s hands moves to Spencer’s hair, toying gently with the strands, the other drifting in lazy patterns across Spencer’s back. “You’re here,” Ryan says, and that’s all the answer Spencer could ever need. 


End file.
